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Mishka: Miss You
For a while, Mishka just kind've lay about. When people were around, he pretended to be fine. He moved around; he ate food; he cracked his usual jokes. When he was alone, though, when no one was watching, he just sort've sat down, closed his eyes, and didn't move. He took a lot of naps. Pumpkin joined him. Sometimes he'd wake up and find the pillow wet like he'd been weeping, and he'd tense up all over, angry at himself. Crying wasn't fucking useful. They needed to kill Asenka. They were supposed to be using the buddy system. Joan was his buddy, though, and she let him slip away whenever he wanted. So when he needed to be alone, he'd go out onto the balcony, the place where Asenka had been, and hide around the corner. He'd sit against the wall and read a book. Maybe I ought to go talk to Raef again, he thought. He knows how to deal with loved ones dying. There were probably a healthier ways to deal with loss than hiding in a corner. Or going on long quests to undermine the natural order of life and death. Like talking to people, or developing a wider support network, or something. Then again, apparently Raef used murder to deal with loss, so maybe he wasn't the right person to ask, either. When Hansel came back from the Sanctuary, he caught Mishka weeping on the balcony. He dropped silently next to him and pulled Mishka into his arms. "Khochav," he muttered. "Joan says you've been wandering around looking dead." "Well, tell her to fuck off. I'll have you know I've been wandering around looking gorgeous." Hansel wiped Mishka's face. "Right," he deadpanned. He wiped his finger under Mishka's eyes. "Dark circles. Very sexy. Are you eating or just pulling shit apart again?" "Are you eating?" Hansel grumbled like that wasn't the point. He didn't argue, though. Probably too wiped out. Mishka curled up in Hansel's arms and closed his eyes. He would make Hansel sleep later. He didn't feel like he was grieving for just Asenka. He felt like he was grieving for Hansel, too. And Goro. And Joan. And Sugar. And Turtle Kid. He was going to live so much longer than all of them. He didn't even want to. Mishka had never been a very good elf; he would've made a better human, a better half-elf, a better tiefling. Aasimar, maybe. Aasimar would've made sense. What with his unearthly good looks and all. There was no point in moping like this. He couldn't wish himself human. He pressed his face into Hansel's shoulder. He was letting himself get attached to people again. At some point, without realizing it, he'd started believing they were going to win and get the slave cuff off, and he'd started letting his guard down. He'd let himself love Joan. He let himself get closer to Sugar. He let himself... do whatever the fuck he was doing with Goro. It hadn't been a conscious decision. More like a slippery slope. When he was younger, Mishka used to keep pets. Two or three at a time. He liked rats, weasels, ferrets, and crows. He'd keep take special care of them until they died of old age or flew away and left him. But that was the trouble with pets: they died. At some point it'd become too painful, and he'd quit. -- At some point, Mishka realized the other reason he was feeling numb. It wasn't just Asenka. It was Goro. He was jealous. Every time he saw Goro, something in his chest stung, like prodding an infected wound. He kept thinking about the other night. The realization that Goro knew what was going on with the cuff-- and the realization that it was fine, because he trusted Goro. Then, before he'd gotten a chance to deal with it, accept it, or even just think about it, Goro had taken off again-- again-- and nothing Mishka had said or done had mattered. He had feelings for Goro. He had a nightmare that he was lying in bed with both of them. He had a nightmare he awoke, and the dragon whispered in his ear: Feed me everyone you love. He dreamed he strangled Goro and cut Hansel's throat. He had feelings for Goro. That's what this was. Feelings. Mishka didn't get feelings for people, normally. Not those kinds of feelings, anyway. It was hard to recognize, like seeing an animal for the first time after you'd only heard it described before. Like thinking, Ah, this is an octopus. It's has eight arms and slit-pupil eyes. It had a hard beak hidden in the center. Just like the other sailors said. He looked at Goro and thought, Ah. I'm in love with this person. I want him to look at me and touch me. I feel sick when I think about him leaving. I still don't know how his trip to Calimport went. It didn't make him happy, though, just... angry at himself. Larkin said something about Goro once: "Goro's an asshole, but he's our asshole." Goro wasn't his, though. And hadn't been. And-- (this one fucking stung worst)-- wouldn't be. There was an elvish philosopher who used to say that the simplest explanation was usually the correct one. Goro kissed him and touched him because he wanted to fuck. Goro shied away from his comfort because he didn't want it. It didn't do anything because it didn't matter to him. He hung around Hansel constantly because he wanted to be with Hansel. He still couldn't quite let go of their last fight. It still didn't feel resolved, even after their talk in the bar. He didn't think he could be weak around Goro anymore. He kept feeling like he was waiting for the next hit. So he stopped spending time around Goro. He let go of the happy little fantasies about the three of them together. He didn't ask Hansel and Goro to go drinking with him, and he didn't ask Goro to help him with political schemes. He kept conversations short. He answered questions when asked. Sleeping together in bed-- that was hard, and it made his chest ache, but he slept on the other side of Hansel, and that made it easier. -- He let himself mope for a while. Everyone deserved to mope a bit, sometimes, he supposed. It was like he'd been shot with a crossbow bolt. You get hit, you get hurt. It was fine. He was not weak for grieving. Grieving was a natural thing to do. He kept telling himself that. But... at some point, he needed to yank the crossbow bolt out and patch the wound. The world did not revolve around Goro, and it did not revolve around Asenka. It hurt, but that was natural. It would heal over and scar, and the pain would go away. He could not, in fact, nap all day every day. He needed to get up. He put on black clothes for mourning, and he started making plans. He couldn't handle killing Asenka again. Physically could not. He'd lock up. He'd have to ask the others to do it for him. Make some excuse, maybe pretend to be ill. And then the other problem-- his stupid goddamn feelings for Goro-- he needed to distract himself. He asked Sugar to help him with some political business. Blackmailing the Minister of Coin. She was delighted. He went drinking with Joan. He went back to the Silverlit in and slept with Erasmus a few more times. It was good. Things got easier, and gradually, it began to feel like he could breathe again. And if it still stung a little when he glanced in Goro's direction-- well. That was natural. It'd go away. Category:Vignettes